


Perceptive Blindness

by TheAsexualofSpades



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Kind of..., M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Pining, Protective Sides (Sanders Sides), also buff logan rights because i say so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28278837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades
Summary: It should’ve been easy, right? To see it coming?Listen, Virgil’s job is to be observant, to pay attention to shit. Just because he’s notoriously, um, overreactive doesn’t mean he’s bad at paying attention. He sees a whole lot of shit and hey if you saw as much shit as Virgil did you’d be freaking out too, yeah? Okay, great, got that sorted.So. Here’s the thing.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton, Anxiety | Virgil/Creativity | Roman/Logic | Logan/Morality | Patton, LAMP - Relationship
Comments: 21
Kudos: 247
Collections: ITS KAWAII AND I WILL FIGHT YOU!!!





	Perceptive Blindness

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to the nonny for this prompt! I hope it's what you wanted, I had fin with it. I love writing in Virgil's voice so much because I don't have to try and rein in my natural snark as much.

**Prompt:** hi can i have some hurt/comfort lamp where virgil gets the others together and pines maybe? im feeling down and need to see virgil pining. ps i love all your fics (especially Is It Enough?)

* * *

It should’ve been easy, right? To see it coming?

Listen, Virgil’s _job_ is to be observant, to pay attention to shit. Just because he’s notoriously, um, _overreactive_ doesn’t mean he’s bad at paying attention. He sees a whole lot of shit and hey if _you_ saw as much shit as Virgil did _you’d_ be freaking out too, yeah? Okay, great, got that sorted.

So. Here’s the thing.

When Roman starts sitting a little closer to Patton that he used to on the couch or offering to help him cook and clean when they _all_ know Roman would rather do anything else, Virgil notices. When Roman starts getting up earlier and earlier so he can beat Patton down to the kitchen so they can do it _together,_ Virgil notices. (It’s not like he _sleeps,_ he notices this shit when there’s not supposed to be people up and at ‘em for another half-hour.)

So yeah, maybe he sinks into Princey’s room one day and smirks when Roman startles terribly coming out of the bathroom.

“Hey there, Princey.”

“Don’t— _goodness,_ Stormcloud,” Roman huffs, getting his balance back, “don’t do that. Haven’t you _ever_ heard of knocking?”

“You were in the bathroom, you wouldn’t have answered.”

“How did you know I was—you know what, it doesn’t matter.” Roman shakes his head. “What do you want?”

  
“What, I can’t just pop my head in and say hi?”

“I’ve never in my life heard you say ‘pop my head in’ and I _never_ want to hear it again.”

“ _That’s_ where you draw the line?”

“Everyone has a line, Dark and Stormy.”

Virgil shrugs, smiling when Roman glares at him for curling up on his bed. Which, alright fair.

“So.”

“You’ve yet to explain why you’re in my room,” Roman reminds, sounding less upset than confused.

“Just thought I’d say hi.”

“Yes, sure, that’s it.”

“What, you don’t believe me?” Roman just stares at him. “Okay, okay, I... _may_ have an ulterior motive.”

“Aha!” Roman points at him victoriously. “I knew it! Now tell me, you fiend.”

It’s only the slight uptick of Roman’s mouth that lets him know that’s probably supposed to be a term of endearment.

“Oh, nothing much,” Virgil sighs, “just wondering about your sleeping habits.”

“Considering you’re the only one in the Mindscape who gets _less_ sleep than me, you’re in no position to—“

“I’m not here to yell at you, Roman,” Virgil says quickly, relaxing a bit when Roman’s shoulders slump, “I just…you know, I _hear_ you when you get up.”

“That’s…kind of creepy.”

“It’s my _thing,_ Roman,” he sighs, “I pay attention to shit and it’s not like I’m _asleep._ ”

“I know, I know, I didn’t mean it like that.” Roman sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are you asking why I’ve been getting up earlier?”

“Yup.”

“It’s nothing _bad,_ Virgil.”

“Never said it was.”

Roman sighs again, more dramatically this time, flouncing over to his desk, definitely _not_ pouting. “Virgil…”

“What? If it’s not bad, why don’t you wanna tell me?” Virgil’s eyes widen. “Ooh, is it a secret? Are you keeping secrets, Roman?”

“Shut up!”

“No!” Virgil lobs a pillow at him. “Tell me!”

He ducks quickly when another one flies back at him.

“Hey!”

“You threw it first!”

“Yeah, and!”

“Gah!” Roman throws himself up out of his chair, trying to hide how red his face is. It’s not working. “What do you _want?_ ”

“I told you, Princey,” Virgil grins, “I want to know why you’re getting up earlier and why you _don’t_ want to tell me.”

“Because I _want_ to!”

“And why do you want to?”

“No,” Roman insists, pointing his finger at Virgil, “I told you, that’s what you wanted.”

“Giving me the vaguest answer that doesn’t actually answer the question is _not_ an answer.”

Roman stares at him for a second. “We’ve said the word ‘answer’ too many times. It’s not a word anymore.”

“Pity.” Virgil shrugs. “Guess you’re gonna have to just tell me.”

“That’s not—how does—“ Roman pinches the bridge of his nose. “That is _not_ how this words. Works.”

Virgil snickers.

“Shut up.”

“You’re so _flustered,_ Princey. I haven’t seen you like this in _ages._ ”

“Leave me _alone,_ Virgil.”

The note of genuine irritation in Roman’s voice is enough to give Virgil pause. He slides off the bed and walks over to Roman, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels.

“You mean that, Roman?”

Roman looks at him from between his fingers, then looks away. “…no.”

“Okay.” He bumps Roman with his elbow. “Sit down, Princey.”

He winces when Roman lets his knees buckle and just collapses onto the floor.

“I didn’t—okay fine.” Listen, Virgil has no respect for ‘normal’ sitting places at the best of times. He sits next to Roman and watches the prince worry at the cuffs of his sleeves. “Roman, you gotta—you’re gonna fuck them up.”

“It’s fine,” Roman mutters absentmindedly, “I’ve done this before.”

“…not exactly reassuring me here, dude.”

“No, not—not _this,_ I just meant the—my sleeves, they’re…they’re not…it’s fine.”

Virgil nods, frowning as Roman starts to fidget a little more.

“…Princey—“

“It’s Patton,” Roman blurts, his face flushing even brighter, “I—that’s why I’m waking up earlier.”

Something in Virgil’s chest twists.

“I figured,” he says instead, bumping Roman’s shoulder again, “you, uh, you had that look about you.”

“What look?”

Virgil tilts his head a bit. “You…you do know what you _look_ like when you’re in love, don’t you Princey?”

If Roman’s eyes could go wider than when Virgil said he knew what was going on, well, they do. 

“I—I’m—wait, _what?_ ”

“You’re romance, aren’t you?” The corner of Virgil’s mouth tugs upward. “Passion, desire, romance, all of that, right?”

“I am, but—“

“You—alright, I gotta figure out a way to say this without being sappy as shit,” Virgil grumbles, looking away for a moment. “Okay, uh—you’re—there’s no way to say this and _not_ sound absolutely ridiculous, but um…your color’s red, right?”

Roman nods, still staring at him.

“You…your eyes _turn_ red, Roman,” Virgil mumbles, “like…you know how cartoon people get like…hearts in their eyes?”

“I get _literal_ heart-eyes?”

“Kind of?” Virgil waves his hand. “You just—you’re—your irises go red and like…sparkly.”

“They _do?_ ”

“Have you _seriously_ never noticed?”

“No!” Roman looks like someone just told him Thomas got another Disney job or something. “I—oh my _goodness,_ this is incredible! How can I see this!”

“Here’s a tip,” Virgil snickers as Roman’s cheeks start to color again, “next time you’re in the kitchen with Patton or something, look at yourself in the mirror or _something_ reflective right after you look at him.”

“O-okay,” Roman mumbles, “okay, okay, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this—“

“Hey—“ Virgil prods him— “you’re supposed to be downstairs in ten minutes anyway, just go _now._ ”

“Right!”

“And…he’s gone,” Virgil sighs, getting up and sinking back to his own room. He pulls on his headphones and turns up the music.

Had Roman…really never noticed his eyes did that? The dude’s had _eyes_ for—well, as long as you have eyes for. Has he never _looked_ at himself when he’s working before? Jeez, and here Virgil thought Roman was looking in a mirror every two seconds.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s noticed something that none of the others did. But still, what with how…obvious Roman can be sometimes, had the _others_ really never noticed this either?

As it turns out, the answer is yes, but also no.

They’re in the living room a few days later and Roman’s bouncing off the walls, as per usual, as Logan looks up every so often from his book, and Patton giggles. Virgil is decidedly _not_ paying attention because of _course_ he isn’t, curled up on the floor out of the way of Roman’s bouncing.

“Watch where you’re going,” Logan scolds when Roman almost brains himself on the banister, “you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Pfft,” Roman blusters, “I haven’t paid attention to a single thing in my entire life and I’ll be damned if I start now.”

Virgil snorts. Patton makes a vague noise of concern. Logan just sighs.

“Roman, you are clearly intelligent enough to demonstrate that you _do_ pay attention to things.”

“I dunno,” Virgil says, “he didn’t notice his heart-eyes when he’s in love until I told him about them.”

Roman sticks his tongue out. Virgil sticks his out back. Then they notice that Logan and Patton are quiet.

“Guys?”

“Roman has what?” Logan closes his book. “I…I was also not aware of this.”

“Hah!” Roman points at Virgil. “See, it’s not just me!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Patton? Did you also know this?”

“Y-yeah,” Patton manages, his voice strangely quiet, “I mean, I _knew_ about Roman’s eyes, but…doesn’t he have that all the time? Not just when he’s in love?”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Roman _freezes,_ his mouth opening and closing without making sounds. Logan looks quizzically back and forth between the two of them until Virgil clambers to his feet and knocks his elbow.

“C’mon, L, let’s go somewhere else.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

Sure enough, after a few minutes of them walking away to give Roman and Patton some privacy, Logan makes a small ‘ah’ sound.

“Yeah,” Virgil sighs, “took them long enough.”

“I am pleased to say that _this_ I did notice.”

“Right?”

“I mean it’s not like it isn’t obvious.”

“That’s what _I_ said.”

“Honestly, did they believe we couldn’t see?”

“I don’t think _they_ knew until like, ten seconds ago.”

“They truly are a bit oblivious, aren’t they?”

“Oh, hell yeah.”

Hey, you know how sickeningly adorable Patton and Roman are _normally?_ You know how much _more_ sickeningly adorable they got _after_ this happened?

Great.

Now double that.

Now you have like, _some_ idea of what Virgil’s going through.

Dates. Kisses. Flowers. Baking together. Sitting on _top_ of each other. Whispers in the corner. Curled around a phone so tight they can’t tell whose legs are whose.

All.

The.

Time.

Is Virgil happy for them? Yes. Absolutely. Great for them. Is he also about to down a bottle of soy sauce to even out the amount of pure _sugar_ he’s being forced to consume? Pass that salt factory over here, please, pronto. That’s probably why the feeling that twisted in his chest hasn’t gone away any.

“Seriously,” Virgil huffs to Logan after the two of them vanish from the kitchen, “Thomas is gonna have _so_ many cavities.”

“That’s not how it works, Virgil.”

“But it fucking _could_ be.”

“I must say I think this has had a…positive impact on Thomas,” Logan says instead, “that his heart and his ego are so…compatible.”

Virgil snorts. “That’s _one_ way to put it.”

“I suppose it makes sense.”

“Yeah, yeah, it makes sense. Right brain boys, we _get_ it. Doesn’t mean I don’t feel like I’m drowning in a gallon of vanilla syrup every time I walk into a fucking room.”

“Alright, enough,” Logan says, giving Virgil a reprimanding look that’s _just_ this side of too smiley to be effective, “I need more coffee.”

“Ooh, get me some too?”

“I have a better idea: why don’t you come _with_ me?”

Virgil groans. “But that requires _moving._ And _effort._ ”

“You have legs.”

“But—“ Virgil wriggles down into the nice little divot in the couch cushions— “comfy.”

Logan sighs, shaking his head in what might be fond exasperation. “Very well. Hold this.”

“Okay,” Virgil mutters, taking Logan’s empty coffee mug, “what are you—hey!”

Logan, because apparently none of them have _noticed_ that he can apparently _do_ this, simply tucks Virgil under his arm like a sack of potatoes, conveniently ignoring the fact that Virgil is, you know, a fucking _heavy-ass person,_ and walks off toward the kitchen like this is absolutely fucking _normal._

“Do I even _weigh_ anything to you?”

“Your weight is not insubstantial.”

Well, judging by the way Logan’s just walking, like a _normal_ person, uh, it doesn’t seem like it.

“How—since when—what?”

“Articulate as always, Virgil,” Logan remarks, stride never faltering, “I do seek to maintain some level of physical fitness.”

“Some level of—Logan, you’re carrying me like it’s _nothing!_ ”

Logan glances down and raises an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

Nope. Absolutely not. Not from this angle. Holy _shit._

“No,” Virgil squeaks, “no, nope. I’m good. No problems.”

Logan hums and looks away, easily setting Virgil back on his feet once they get to the kitchen.

Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine right now. Everything’s so fine. Everything’s so fine and good right now in the way that it’s happening. It’s never not been fine. Virgil’s never been more fine in his fucking life.

Holy _fuck._

Okay, so Virgil was _not_ observant enough to pick _that_ up the first time around—get it? No? Fuck you, that was funny—but he _does_ start noticing it more often. How Logan can just sigh and _pick up the couch_ to grab his pencil, or how he never balks at having to put away the really heavy dishes that Patton struggles with. It’s—okay. Yep, he can deal with this. Totally.

Virgil just sees a _lot,_ okay?

Which _means_ that he can see how Roman and Patton react when they first realize how strong Logan is.

Patton’s looking for something in the top of the cupboard, straining on his tiptoes. He sighs and starts to try and climb the counter.

“Patton!” Logan rushes into the kitchen past Virgil who sits back to watch the show. “Don’t do that, you know how dangerous it is.”

“I know, I know, but I can’t find the brown sugar, I think I pushed it back too far!”

“Just get the step stool, you know where it is.”

“But it takes so long to reorganize the closet to get it out,” Patton protests, “and I know where it _is,_ it won’t take long.”

“We _do_ need to fix that, don’t we?” Logan sighs. “Alright. You say you know where it is?”

“Yes! I can see it, I just can’t reach it.”

“Alright. Ready?”

“Ready for— _oof!_ ”

Patton _squeals_ when Logan just…picks him up and holds him by the cupboard, clutching Logan’s arms like he’s going to fall.

“L-Logan!”

“Can you reach it?”

“Y-yeah, I can probably—oh my _goodness,_ Lo, you’re strong!”

“I’m not going to drop you, Patton, just grab the sugar.”

“Okay, okay, I, um…” Patton fidgets, still clutching Logan’s hands. “Gosh!”

“Patton? The sugar?”

“R-right!” Patton pulls the bag of sugar out of the cupboard as Logan lowers him gently to the ground. “Wow, thanks, Logan!”

“Of course. Though we really _must_ get the closet reorganized, the step stool does not good if we can’t easily access it…”

Virgil snickers as Logan goes off about the closet. He knows damn well Patton is not paying _any_ attention to what he’s saying. He catches Virgil’s eyes and just mouths ‘wow!’

Virgil responds with a shrug of ‘what can you do?’

“Virgil?”

“What’s up, L?” He cranes his neck back to peer up at Logan.

“Patton has requested that we all come to stay in the kitchen,” Logan says, offering a hand to pull Virgil to his feet. Virgil briefly entertains the idea of making Logan pick him up again when he decides against it.

“Okay…?”

“Do you happen to know where Roman is,” Logan asks as he pulls Virgil up, “or no?”

“I think he’s in the Imagination?”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Then you may as well come with me. We’ll have a better chance of finding him.”

Virgil tips Patton a lazy two-fingered salute as they make their way up the stairs. Sure enough, the bright red door to the Imagination is ajar, and as Logan steps through, Virgil spots a castle, a briar garden, and many many cloud fortresses above.

“Well,” Logan huffs as Virgil closes the door, “he’s not running out of energy any time soon.”

“Good.”

“Quite.” Logan glances around. “Well, we’d better start looking.”

Virgil’s about to agree when he hears something whistling above him. He looks up and squints.

He takes two steps to the left.

“Virgil?” Logan turns around. “What’re you doing?”

In response, Virgil just points up.

Logan follows his finger, his expression changing from one of confusion to that familiar fond exasperation again. Virgil expects him to glance around for something soft, or squishy, or at the _very_ least move out of the way.

Instead, Logan simply sighs, takes two steps _closer,_ and holds out his arms…

…and _catches_ Roman effortlessly in a princess carry.

“Hello, Roman,” Logan says like he _didn’t_ just fucking do _that,_ “Patton wants everyone downstairs.”

“I don’t think Roman’s got speech right now, L,” Virgil snickers.

Indeed, Roman—which, hang on, let’s preface this by saying this is a reasonable reaction, okay? Logan just fucking _caught_ him after falling from god knows how high like he weighs less than a fucking pillow, this is not something that just _happens—_ is staring open-mouthed at Logan, panting heavily, frozen in Logan’s arms. Logan tilts his head.

“Roman? Are you okay?”

Virgil snorts when Roman suddenly flails and tries to struggle out of Logan’s arms.

“ _Roman,_ ” Logan says sternly and _holy fuck,_ “if you want me to put you down I _will,_ but if you do that you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Yep,” Roman squeaks, “you can—you can put me down, I can walk, you can put me down.”

“There we go.” Logan puts him down only for Roman to quickly brush himself off and dart toward the door. “Where are you _going?_ ”

“Patton! Downstairs! Forgot! Bye!”

“Well, he seems to be in a hurry,” Logan sighs, adjusting his glasses, only to frown at Virgil when Virgil just _bursts_ out laughing. “What?”

“No, no, you gotta—holy _shit!”_ Virgil doubles over, still cackling. “Oh my god, his _face._ ”

“I don’t understand what’s so funny,” Logan says a moment later when Virgil’s wiping tears from his eyes, “did I do something wrong?”

The concerned question sobers Virgil, at least enough to stop dying. “No, no, L, you’re fine. Roman’s just…having a moment.”

“Because he forgot about Patton’s request,” Logan nods, “and does not wish to offend him.”

“…yeah, that’s it.”

“Well,” Logan says, dusting himself off, “let’s not be late too, hmm?”

“Sure, L.”

_Logan_ might not know why Roman and Patton are muttering furiously to each other and spring apart the second they appear around the end of the stairs, but Virgil does. He just chuckles and winks and settles in to watch a dinner of the three of them being absolutely idiots.

It’s fine.

It’s _so_ fine.

It’s probably because he was laughing so hard that his chest still hurts.

This lasts for like a _week,_ and Virgil’s fucking face hurts from laughing at their fucking _faces_ and trying to hide how hard he’s fucking laughing. And yeah okay Virgil’s in no position to judge, he’s got no idea how ridiculous he looked when _he_ got jump scared by Logan’s freaky strength.

And it’s just not fucking _fair_ because if it was Roman, they’d all expect it. He’d be sweeping them off their feet every two seconds and they’d be used to it by now. If it were Patton, he’d just pick them up and hug them and be the best dad ever and that would be great. But no, it’s _Logan._

Logan who’s…Logan. Who can calm them all down better than anyone else but also has that sharp-as-hell tongue and quick wit that runs circles around them. _Fuck._ He’s just—gah.

Okay, at least Virgil’s not alone here. He’s seen Patton fumble through his words around a surprisingly patient Logan for _ages_ now, and watched Roman stand _way_ too close to Logan too. And yeah, okay, he’s seen the way Logan looks at them too.

So much so that he bites the bullet one day and sighs, tugging Logan out of the living room and to his room.

“Virgil? What’s going on?”

“What’s going _on,”_ Virgil sighs, “is that if I have to look at you pining over them for one more second I am _going_ to scream.”

Logan, to his credit, doesn’t try and deny it. Instead, he simply adjusts his tie and glasses, studiously avoiding Virgil’s gaze. “I suppose it really _is_ that obvious.”

“To me, yeah, to those two, not so much.”

“I will get over this, I’m working on it.”

“God, _no,_ L, that’s not what I—“ Virgil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just _talk_ to them, okay?”

“Are you certain? But you’d be…okay with this?”

Virgil levels a stare at him. “Dude, have you not seen how they look at you?”

“…no?”

“What is it _like_ for you guys? It must be so boring.”

“I can assure you,” Logan says wryly, “I can see perfectly well.”

“Sure, Specs.”

“Alright, that’s enough.”

“Yeah, uh-huh. Sure.”

“Virgil!”

“No, no, I’m just saying it’s _interesting_ that—“

“That’s _enough._ ”

Virgil gulps. “Mhmm. Okay. Yep. Got it.”

He wisely does not go into the living room for the rest of the day.

There’s a lot Virgil sees. He sees the way Logan makes two extra mugs of coffee, sits just so on the couch, touches the small of Roman’s back or the crook of Patton’s shoulder. He sees the way Roman smiles when he looks at Patton the way he doesn’t smile any other time, wraps his arms tightly around Logan’s waist and hooks his chin over his shoulder, keeps his door cracked a little more than usual. He sees the way Patton fusses over the cookies, making sure they’ve always got Roman’s chips and Logan’s pretzels stocked, walks in the middle of the two of them with their hands swinging.

He sees a lot.

And, uh…he realizes something.

Remember that, uh, funny feeling in his chest that he totally thought was from somewhere else?

Listen, just because he _sees_ a lot of stuff doesn’t mean he’s the best at _recognizing_ it.

So yeah. He’s, uh…

You know.

Don’t make him say it.

As it turns out, that can make you blind to certain things. When he’s hyper-focusing on the things he knows he’s _going_ to see, he doesn’t really have the space to realize there’s a whole host of things he _doesn’t_ see.

He doesn’t see the way Patton’s smile drops when Virgil declines his invitation to movie night, saying he doesn’t wanna crash or invade. He doesn’t notice the way Roman makes a point to ask permission to hug Virgil too, cradling him with a tenderness he doesn’t notice that he’s only seen for the others. He doesn’t realize how much Logan’s behavior toward _him_ is how Logan treats Roman and Patton now.

He doesn’t notice much past the ache in his chest.

Then he has a panic attack on their date night and the pain sharpens to an unbearable whine.

They’re not coming. They’re not coming. There’s no one here to help him, he’s alone, he’s always going to be alone, in the dark, in the shadows, away from the light. They’re not worrying about him, why would they? They’ve got each other, they don’t need him, they’ve _never_ needed him, not like he needs them, he’s—he’s all alone, he doesn’t have anyone, no one wants him, he’s going to die like this. He’s alone. It’s cold. The cold is painful. His chest burns from how cold it is. He can’t breathe, it’s so cold.

“Virgil?”

No one is here, no one is coming.

“Roman, can you—?”

Something bangs in the distance.

“ _Virgil!_ ”

Strong arms wrap around him and pull him into something warm. More strong arms cover his hands and gently pry them away from his face. Something soft rubs his face and strokes over his back.

“I need you to breathe with me, kiddo, come on…”

“We’re right here, Stormcloud, you just calm down now.”

“It’s okay, Virgil, everything is okay.”

They’re…here?

No, no, no, they’re not supposed to be here, it’s their date night, they—oh, god they’re missing their date night for _him_ and he’s ruining it and they’re going to hate him now and—and—

“Shh, shh,” comes Logan’s voice from somewhere above him, “hush now, Virgil, it’s alright. We’ve got you.”

“You’re safe, sweetheart,” Patton coos, “I promise. You just sit with Logan for a minute, okay?”

“I’m—I’m so—sor—sorr—“

“None of that, shadowling,” Roman murmurs, brushing—wait, what?—brushing his lips over the back of Virgil’s shaking hand, “it’s not your fault.”

The ache in Virgil’s chest expands and collapses in on itself again.

Logan makes a comforting noise, tugging Virgil gently this way and that until he’s square in Logan’s arms, his head pillowed in the crook of Logan’s neck. Roman’s hand cards through his hair. Patton taps the 4-7-8 rhythm gently on his arm.

“Virgil, honey?” Patton reaches up to dab at his damp cheek when he mumbles a full apology. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” Virgil manages, “y-you can go now, ‘m sorry.”

Roman chuckles. “If you think we’re leaving you, little demon, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“B-but you—“

“Shh, shh,” Roman says quickly when Virgil’s breathing starts to pick up again, “take it easy, V, it’s okay, we’re not in a hurry.”

“It’s your date night,” Virgil blurts, the words clumsy and too loud in his mouth, “you—you shouldn’t have to be here. W-with—“

“…with,” Patton prompts gently, “with what, kiddo?”

“…with _me._ ”

“Oh, kiddo…”

“If you think,” Roman says quietly, “that we’d rather be anywhere else than right here, with you, _at any time,_ you’re sorely mistaken, V.”

Wait.

What?

“B-but we’re—you’re—I’m not—“

“Not what, kiddo?”

“… _yours._ ”

Saying it out loud punctures his chest again. Tears well up in his eyes as he buries his face shamefully in Logan’s neck.

“…oh my god,” he hears Roman say faintly, “it happened!”

“But I thought we—we were being more obvious!”

“I know! I thought we were too! But this happened! It’s just like the stories, oh my goodness—“

“Oh, _kiddo…”_

Virgil can’t process any of that right now, thank you very much, because he’s currently hiding in Logan’s embrace and would rather never emerge again.

If he had, well, he may have been a little more prepared for Logan to cup his face with one hand and pull back enough to look him in the eyes.

“Virgil,” Logan whispers, “we thought you already _were._ ”

Stop.

Wait.

Pause.

Go back.

Rewind.

“ _What?_ ”

“Surely you’ve noticed, kiddo, haven’t you?” Patton squeezes his arm. “We love you, Virgil.”

“B-but—you—“

“Stormcloud,” Roman whispers, brushing his lips over Virgil’s cheek, “we _do,_ and you’re ours as much as you’d like to be.”

“I—I— _Logan—_ “

“Patton’s right,” Logan says, still cupping Virgil’s face as he wipes away stray tears, “to be honest, I….well, I thought you and I were in a relationship long before Patton and Roman.”

“You _what?_ ”

In response, Logan leans forward and kisses Virgil’s forehead.

“You don’t think I’d do that for just anyone,” he whispers, too quiet for the others to hear, “do you?”

Hello, yes, hi, Virgil has precisely _zero_ idea what’s going on right now, so uh, if everyone could just hold the fuck on for two seconds it would be _greatly_ appreciated.

“Aww, Left Brain boys!”

“Shh!”

Virgil isn’t interrupting date night.

The others care about him.

The others _love_ him.

The others want him to be a part of their family.

_Logan_ thought they were in a relationship _already._

“Shh, shh,” Logan shushes, his thumb stroking Virgil’s shaking cheek, “you don’t have to say anything right now, darling. This is a lot, I’m sure.”

“Logan’s right.” Roman ruffles Virgil’s hair. “We’ll be here for you, Stormcloud.”

“And that’s a promise.”

Yeah, Virgil’s brain is way too fried by _all_ of this to process any of it. But he does know that Roman’s hand in his hair is warm and soft and perfect. He knows that Patton’s murmuring something quietly that’s lulling him right to sleep. He knows that Logan is still holding him tightly, his lips pressed to his forehead, whispering how much they love him.

“Go to sleep, darling,” Logan whispers, “we’ll be here when you wake up.”

“…rude?”

“You’re not being rude, kiddo, promise.”

“Close your eyes,” Roman calls softly, his fingers scratching around Virgil’s head, “and you’ll see, Stormcloud.”

As Virgil’s eyes drift closed, maybe…maybe they’re right.

Maybe it’ll be a little easier to see that way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come yell at me on tumblr:
> 
> https://a-small-batch-of-dragons.tumblr.com/


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